


Pink

by WhiteRoseOfRivendell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Dean Winchesters Pink Panties, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Laundry Rooms Sometimes See A Lot, M/M, Pining, Sex, Smut, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-04 13:14:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20471603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteRoseOfRivendell/pseuds/WhiteRoseOfRivendell
Summary: A story about Dean’s pink unmentionables and the angel who finds them impossible to ignore... Basically, four times Castiel wanted Dean & the one time he did something about it. A short read, but I wrote it to be fluffy, sexy, and a bit mischievous. Enjoy.~WhiteRose





	1. Is Like Red, But Not Quite

He saw it one day. It was just a sliver of color, but nonetheless, it stood out against the usual grays and deep shadows of the store room. It was the color of a bloomed fuchsia, set against a band of black that peeked out just above his jeans. The seemingly insignificant detail made the curve of the man’s exposed back that much more interesting, not that it hadn’t been previously. Castiel had stopped what he was doing for this sole reason, though he was loathe to admit it to himself. The pink underwear were quite a distraction. 

Though, if he were to be honest, it was not a wholly unwelcome one. 

The angel had been trying his best to forget the past few months, including all the things he had heard coming from the mouth of the only soul he had ever loved. It lingered still, and the worst part was that it had made him sober to the reality of who and what he and Dean were. Still, hope is a powerful adversary and Castiel most often lost the fight against it. This time was the same as all the previous. For all else aside, Dean was slowly recovering and things had been getting better in the bunker since Michael was gone.

_And hopefully gone to stay._

The thought had come unbidden to his mind, but he allowed it. 

It was, after all, more of a prayer than a thought. Vile thoughts had come often of late and he found he was all the better when his hands were busy and his thoughts were in prayer. Michael may be gone, but the stench of his deeds remained. Castiel was grateful now for the distraction that was the man in front of him. He blinked once, realizing how long he had been staring. The angel then returned to cataloging the contents of the metal shelf before him, turning his head just enough so as to hide the slight blush in his cheeks.

Angels shouldn’t blush, his mind grumbled. 

He stepped back, failing to notice that Dean was no longer rummaging through the cardboard box on the floor to his left. It was only when he heard the telltale, ‘Whoa’, that it registered. He stumbled, half stepping onto his companion’s foot. At once, Dean’s hands were on his back, stabilizing him. Though the gesture would be written off as a helpful and nothing more by the angel, it might be noted that the man’s hands lingered dangerously too long about his shoulder blades. It was precisely where his wings existed and he had often wondered if Dean could feel them in some way. He found that there were many times that Dean’s hands would end up in that exact position. He liked the touch, but he liked thinking about the possible reason behind it even more. In this instance, he pushed the thought aside, for the distraction in it was too great. Castiel righted himself, ashamed of the oversight, yet found that he was still a bit unbalanced. 

“My apologies, Dean,” Castiel said, turning to fully face his friend. But before he could continue a hand was placed on his shoulder.

“It’s ok. You want a break? We’ve been going at this for hours,” Dean’s eyes were mischievous as he smiled.

“Dean, it has been 35 minutes,” he corrected, rolling his eyes.

“C’mon Cas, it’s boring,” Dean complained, “Remind me why we are doing this?” He picked up a jar of powdered yarrow and tossed it idly from hand to hand.

“Because Sam and Jack are in Ohio, there are no cases at the moment, and we need to take an inventory of what we have. Some of our stores are very low.” He swiped the jar mid-toss and raised his eyebrows pointedly. It was meant to be chiding, but with the mood in the room, it came off as playful. 

Dean stared back at him steadily at first, then relented.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know,” he trailed off. Then, “How about a beer?”

Cas gave him a suspicious, but amused stare. The innocent look that greeted him back made something inside him change, as it tended to do, “I suppose... one beer won’t hurt.” 

Dean’s eyes now had a gleam in them that soon had Cas laughing into a bottle, or three, of Bell’s Hopslam in the middle of the bunker’s kitchen.

*****

The second time it happened, three months had passed. The night air had been warming up steadily, signaling an early spring. Dean sat in the driver’s seat of Baby with Cas riding shot gun. They were staking out a possible demon on the outskirts of Effingham, Illinois. It had been two hours and the sonofabitch still hadn’t shown.

“I’m hungry,” Dean sighed, “You hungry?” He turned to face Cas. Seeing the level stare, he amended, “Nah, I know.” 

Dean smiled a bit, the roll of his eyes taking over his visage. He leaned back, sliding half way over the seat to grab a bag of White Castle from the back. He was in only his t-shirt, as the day had been uncharacteristically warm and his normal plaid shirt had been discarded quite a bit earlier. The white fabric crept further up as Dean reached back for the bags. 

Then, there they were. Another sliver of pink, this time flush against his skin. The absence of the black band almost didn’t register as Cas’ eyes became fixed on the delicate material. It looked soft, silky. It was different from the previous pair. He wanted so much to see more of it, yet he loudly cleared his throat and forced himself to turn.

“You know that I do not eat,” he said lamely. The close proximity was beginning to make him feel nonplussed. 

Dean’s head poked back up out of the backseat. The half smile from before was now boyish and light, “Hey, no problem there. More for me.” He plopped back down into the front seat, jostling the car a bit with one extra, intended bounce. 

Castiel could only watch as he began to eat. The first bite, of course, was always the best when eating White Castle, according to Dean. So, Cas endured the pause and the groan of pleasure as he slowly chewed. He made himself look away and back to the house across the street. It was a dark, boring sight and it made him painfully aware of the fact that there was nothing to distract him from the pleasure of what he had just seen.

Pink.


	2. Cause You Are So Very

The next time the curious undergarment made an appearance was one July afternoon that took place on the heels of a rather problematic vampire case. Sam, Dean, Cas, and Jack had just spent the last few weeks tracking a nest, but had wound up prisoners of the monsters themselves. Luckily, they were able to thwart any attempt at exsanguination and, after somewhat of an ordeal, were able to remove the heads of all present.

Sam had insisted that they get outside and take in some fresh air. After all, they had been trapped in a vamp’s nest and had barely seen the light of day while hunting for it. The idea went over like a lead balloon with the rest of Team Free Will, but Sam persisted and the four of them had wound up going on the hike anyway. 

As with many good intentions, this one went a bit pear-shaped before the idea could have it’s intended impact. Hiking was something that was healthy, fun, and an extremely valid pastime. That being said, if one did not properly plan for the return walk, it could become a remarkably daunting activity. It had been a sweltering day and the trail was longer than Sam had previously thought. That is why, after five and a half hours, the two fully human members of Team Free Will nearly collapsed upon the return to the bunker. 

Dean sat, sweaty and exhausted, in a chair by the library’s large wooden table, “Sam, I’m never listening to you again.”

Sam was in a chair opposite him, his head lying atop his arms on the table. He didn’t bother to look up as he spoke, “Hiking is healthy, Dean...”

“Yeah, well, next time you get a brilliant idea for my health, feel free to keep it to yourself,” Dean scrubbed his face with his hands, “I’m going to have a shower.” He got up and made his way to the hallway that lead to his room. 

Sam sat back and closed his eyes. He was obliged to take in a deep breath to counteract the slight dizziness that the movement provoked. He knew that he had miscalculated the distance for the hike, but he did not want to admit how hard of a time he was having recovering from it. Both he and his brother were in great shape, however they were no longer young men. It was a truth that was unspoken between them, but held much unease in their minds. 

“How about hot dogs!”

Jack’s voice came out of nowhere, startling Sam out of his tired musings.

“What?” Sam asked, trying to reset his mind, “You want to eat?” He knew with Jack’s powers back that the nephilim didn’t really require much food. Cas had always said that food tasted like molecules to him, although he did sometimes indulge for the sake of the brothers. It didn’t seem to bother Jack as much, and the boy did love cereal.

“I no longer need to eat very much,” he confirmed, “but you do, and Dean. I thought hot dogs would make a good summertime meal. I like hot dogs,” his face was bright and open. He was like a ten year old kid with a grand plan, “Can we go get some? I can drive.”

At that, Sam stood up, “No! That’s ok, that’s good. I’ll drive. Let’s just grab some water for the road.” 

The worn out man and the springy nephilim made a perfectly unremarkable pair to the ignorant eye as they got into their car and began their quest for the quintessential summertime meal.

Back at the bunker, Castiel changed into his usual attire. Dean had lent him a t-shirt and shorts for the purposes of hiking, even though he had told Dean that it was not necessary.

“Cas, no one hikes in a suit. Now if we’re going to go though with Sam’s crazy idea, then we should at least look the part,” Dean had said.

And that had been that. Castiel decided that it was not worth the back and forth exchange that would ensue if he refused the offer of athletic clothing. So, he had donned the ridiculous outfit. It was not so much that it was clownish, nor was it uncomfortable; Castiel simply liked his suit and trench coat. It was familiar and, being an angel, there was no need to change it due to sweat or soil. Besides, for that particular style of clothing, Cas much preferred Dean to be the one wearing it. It fit his body just as it should. 

This was the thought that was swirling around in the angel’s mind as he sought out his friend to return the borrowed clothing. He walked down the hallway toward where the bedrooms were, the vision of Dean’s athletic build in no way influencing his gait.

Dean was not in his room when Castiel arrived at the door. However, the low bass tones of Pink Floyd could faintly be heard coming from down the hall. Shirt and shorts still in hand, Cas followed the music. Soon the drumming of water joined the melody and he found himself standing at the door to the shower room.

It was open a crack.

Of course it was. There really was no reason for it to be closed all the way. Only two of them actually needed to shower and each stall had its own curtain. Cas could feel the hot steam even as he stood outside the threshold. He stilled and clutched the garments he held to his chest, utterly unaware that they still existed at all. For there, just beyond a pile of soiled clothing, was an inkling of pink.

It was inescapable, it was irrefutable. 

A pair of soft pink underwear sat peeking out between a folded white shirt and clean pair of blue jeans. Castiel’s breath hitched as he thought of why Dean would choose to wear his brightly colored and incredibly distracting underwear on this particular occasion. Was it on purpose? He wondered if they were fitted boxers or if they were briefs, for he could not tell from his vantage point. His curiosity must have influenced more than his imagination because he leaned forward just enough to once again put himself off balance. He was obliged to take a step forward and wound up kicking the bottom of the door. Being as old as it was, the frosted pane of glass in said door rattled as its hinges whined, making an unmistakable announcement of his presence.

Castiel looked up and froze.

Dean’s head came popping out from behind the shower curtain, one eye closed from a line of shampoo that threatened to slide into it, “Cas?” He called out blindly.

“I, uhhh,” he couldn’t think. He knew there was an excuse to use, but it failed to come to his mind. He swallowed and did his best to avoid looking at the pink underwear sitting just a short distance from where he stood. The attempt failed. He glanced at them, and Dean saw him do it.

Dean glanced too, then looked back to Cas, a guise of nonchalance carefully written into his features.

Cas’ brain suddenly came back into focus, whether of its own volition or necessity, “I apologize,” he glanced back at the rosy pink. _Damn it!_ He thought, but continued as unerringly as he could muster, “I was just returning your clothes. I see you have some...here...I mean, I could just leave them in your bed...on...on your bed.”__

_ __ _

_ __ _

If angels had the capacity to sweat, you could bet Castiel would also need a shower after this encounter. Perhaps a long shower; perhaps a cold shower. He turned and hurriedly walked back down the hall.

*****

If the fourth time was an accident, then Cas was no judge of human behavior. You see, Dean had decided to wash Baby on a warm August morning. He had once told Cas that there was a difference when a car was washed and dried out in the fresh air. Cas had not seen any benefit to it as there were more things that could possibly re-sully the automobile outside than in. However, when it came to Baby, there was no convincing Dean. He had let the matter drop and had forgotten about it all together, until this moment.

In front of him, Baby sat quietly just outside of the bunker’s garage. She was peaceful and content under the brown and yellow leaves that fell from the autumn trees. The car seemed to preen as her owner bent forward over the hood, shirtless and waxing briskly. The song on the radio had just concluded and time seemed to halt as Dean stretched up to a missed spot near the windshield wipers. 

Once more, there was Castiel’s beloved pink. 

It mischievously disappeared again, just as fast as it had appeared, deep beneath the blue of his jeans. It was as if their brightness was contained by them. Perhaps Dean was contained by them.

Castiel quietly cleared his throat and tried to focus on anything but the undergarments that currently accompanied the movement of Dean’s tanned back muscles as he waxed his car. The situation was so cliche, it could have come out of an eighties music video. 

Then Rock You Like a Hurricane began to blast from the speakers as Dean lifted from the shiny black hood.

Castiel sighed a little at his life.

“Hello Dean.”

Dean turned as if nothing was amiss, “Hey Cas, What’s up? What’s going on?” He tucked the yellow rag into the back of his Levi’s.

Of course he did.

“Sam wanted me to let you know that he found a case,” Castiel managed, trying desperately to remain poised.

“Oh yeah? What do we got?” Dean asked. He walked over to the far side of the driveway and picked up the bucket of cleaners. As he did so, he turned just enough to give Castiel’s eyes the opportunity to slide from his face, down the curve of his shoulder, to his slightly slippery fingers. 

Castiel’s mouth went dry and, for a moment, he forgot that he had been asked a question.

“We...it’s a rougarou, we think,” he stuttered, silently chastising himself for allowing his eyes to linger. He was sure Dean had noticed.

A small smile confirmed his suspicions.

“Ok, Louisiana it is then. I only have the other half of the hood left anyway,” he began to walk back toward Baby, “Maybe 30 minutes tops,” he said over his shoulder and grabbed the towel from his back pocket, “Unless, uh, you want to give me a hand.” Dean twisted the towel around absently and half-turned to look at Cas. He licked his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth as he did so. A common enough mannerism for Dean, yet this time it got caught on the edge of his teeth as it slowly slid back out. 

In Cas’ mind, there was no way what just happened, had actually happened. Dean had never flirted with him in earnest. Though now that he thought about it, perhaps he had and Castiel had just never had the presence of mind to notice. He adjusted his tie and took a couple of steps toward the door. There was absolutely no logical reason for him to be nervous or flustered, but there he was, fidgeting like a schoolboy. Not that he had ever been one, however he was sure this was a taste of the awkwardness of that particular human season. 

His gaze faltered.

“You...you seem to have the matter well in hand. I mean, I’ll just go and prepare myself...,” Castiel blushed, “Not myself, of course, because I don’t actually...need anything.” 

Dean’s stare was nothing short of amused. 

Which made matters all the worse. Castiel could no longer rely on the proposition that these were normal, platonic interactions. However, he also could not be absolutely sure of the nature of the teasing. It seemed as though all the signs were there. It seemed as if Dean was jockeying for his attentions. So why couldn’t the angel just reach out and ask for what he truly desired? 

Cas covered up the resulting short sigh with a tight-lipped smile, “We will be ready to go within the hour.”

He paused and gave Dean one last gauging look. He thought he almost saw disappointment, but dismissed it as fantasy. The angel walked back out of the garage with the intention of going to gather the weapons needed for the trip. However, he found that he could not trust his own mind at that moment and his steps headed in the direction of the library. Sam was not necessarily the company that he yearned for at present, but he was one person that could focus his thoughts on things more important than the lovely shade of pink painting itself over and over in his mind.


	3. On the Lips of Your Lover

The fifth time came in an unremarkable, unimportant, and wholly unassuming manner. Dean’s laundry situation had once again become, shall we say, unmanageable. He had finally bitten the proverbial bullet and taken his clothes to the laundry room. Dean sighed. It wasn’t so much the washing nor the drying that bothered him. After all, he had been doing this for years to keep himself and Sammy in clean clothing while their dad was away hunting. What really bothered him was the folding and putting away of the clothes. It just took so much damn time. As much as it annoyed him, he could not bring himself to throw everything in his drawers and be done. All the years of living out of a bag, and having to up and go at a moments notice, made him more organized and precise in this area than he would care to admit. For this reason, he would allow the dirty clothes to pile up until the day he found no clean socks or underwear in his drawer. 

In fact, that is what Dean was grumbling about just as he ran into Castiel, who happened to be turning the far left corner by the laundry room. The basket he was carrying collided with the angel’s chest before he could stop himself. 

Dean looked up and apologized, “Hey Cas, sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Cas meant to reply, he really did, but he had become hopelessly distracted. 

Dean followed his gaze down to the triangle of blush pink that had made its way above the barrier of white undershirts. Dean shut his mouth and paused, awaiting the inevitable reaction. 

“You should not wash colored clothing with whites, Dean,” Castiel’s words were chiding. Yet, when his blue eyes lifted back to the human in front of him, they spoke of flirtation.

Dean shrugged, “What can I say? I live dangerously.” He laughed, attempting to ignore the energy rising between them. However, the look on Cas’ face was still there, and a smile now accompanied it. Dean swallowed and reflexively sucked in a breath, not believing what he was about to say, “At least it was only one of them, this time,” he paused, and glanced up to gauge the reaction. He knew Cas had seen them before. Over time, he had even become comfortable with the idea of him knowing. It seemed Cas liked them, if he was to be honest. The last couple of times they had snuck their way into visibility, Dean had possibly even gone out of his way to test his theory.

Now the angel’s desire was beginning to show through, a glimmer against the grey. Dean had seen the look before and had previously decided to consciously believe it was something other than what it was. Now, as Castiel walked toward him, he took it all in; the pupils blown wide, the fluid gait, and parted lips that promised a long, lingering kiss.

With slackening arms, the basket was dropped to the side and Dean was backed against the cold stone bunker wall. His mouth was captured in an instant, hard and demanding. It was so fast that he felt barely conscious as he struggled to comprehend the events taking place. But he liked it. It felt good. He realized how long he had actually been waiting for this, far beyond the flirtation of the pink panties. Perhaps he had even instigated those dalliances. Perhaps he had toyed with the angel, knowing it would take Cas time to recognize the advance; enough of a span for Dean, himself, to be ready. Time bought and well spent.

Cas’ hands came up to Dean’s face first and then ran slowly down to his shoulders. He kissed Dean more gently now, feeling how he responded, moving himself to press against the man’s warm body. Cas pulled back slightly. Dean was flushed now, only a shade or two lighter in color than the rouge that had bedeviled Castiel’s footsteps for so long. Cas gripped his shoulders and maneuvered him toward the laundry room door. 

Dean allowed himself to be taken, as he too found that he was anxious to make it into the privacy of the space. 

Once through the threshold, the scent of fresh linen and fabric softener filled their noses. Cas liked the smell. It smelled like Dean, clean out of the shower. He remembered the moment in the hallway, not far from where they now stood, when he had happened upon Dean in the shower. The moment had not lasted long, but it had stayed in his mind for quite some time. It had haunted him that night and most nights since. Castiel had almost felt sinful when the memory would come to him, late at night when the rest of the bunker slept. He had acted upon it once, maybe twice. In all honesty, the angel had not counted. It seemed less wrong that way. 

Now, the memory came back, and the feeling of that past moment flooded through his body. Castiel’s cock immediately stood firm, begging to be attended. It strained against his slacks. Months of watching and wanting overtook him and he could stand it no more. He took Dean by the ass and hauled him atop the dryer. The smooth vibrations pulsed through him, and he felt their bodies quiver in time. 

Cas moved toward him with intent, and Dean did not shy away. He hugged Cas to him, his hands pulling and clutching his shoulder blades. Dean liked that spot immensely. He imagined Cas’ wings being there, imagined the soft, black feathers sliding between his fingers. The thought of that, coupled with being wrapped around Cas, made him harder than he had been in a long time. He shifted forward. The tumbling of the appliance below him massaged him in a way that he had never been on the receiving end of. He met the angel with fervor and allowed his hands to travel lower. They rested on the small of his back, then ventured still further. 

A moan escaped Castiel’s lips and the angel found that they did not want to close around the sound. In the absence of restraint, his tongue came forward to lap at Dean’s mouth. Dean opened willingly and Castiel relished the taste of him as he explored.

Suddenly, Dean pushed Cas back, a soft hand upon his chest. With a puzzled look, Castiel complied. With a hint of shyness, Dean smiled. He unbuttoned his jeans and tugged the zipper down. He leaned back, one hand moving behind him to support his body. His other pulled the material open, revealing the same magenta and black pants that had started this whole charade back in the store room all those months ago.

The dam in Castiel’s mind broke. He looked at Dean, displayed for him atop the dryer. The moments of self-doubt and despise vanished. All those nights he had restrained himself against the rampant thoughts in his mind, all of the times he had wished for this very thing, only to chastise himself for his naivety; they all came together. For once, and for an ineffable reason, it all made sense. He felt lighter and freer than he had in a long time. It felt miraculous. This man was miraculous. Castiel was near gasping for air as he reached for the waist of Dean’s jeans. He pulled them down, careful to leave the exhibited garment in place. 

There they were at last, his precious pink; complete and perfect.

Cas took a moment to appreciate the image before him, to savor it as it deserved to be savored. His eyes roved over the plains and valleys splayed out in exquisite variations. He wanted to travel those once forbidden lands. The adventure was even more alluring than the destination. Like explorers mapping their way, his hands began at Dean’s knees and slowly trekked upward. He kept his eyes trained on Dean’s as the tips of his fingers began to run over the dark rose cotton of his underwear. As he neared Dean’s hips, the man let out a breath that Cas suspected he hadn’t known he was holding. It came rushing out and Dean tried his best to mute the sound that followed it, but failed miserably. It would not be the last time.

Castiel’s hands were deliberate as they moved. They came around to clutch at Dean’s hips. Dean sat up and pulled his white t-shirt up over his head. He leaned forward, hips pushing against the thumbs that held them there. He stretched over and kissed Castiel, decisive and wanting. His lips melted against the angel’s. All inhibition about what he had just done, and what he was about to do, left his mind, with one small exception.

“Cas.”

“Yes,” he answered, and kissed Dean again. He moved away from the sweetness of Dean’s mouth and focused on licking and sucking the most sensitive parts of his neck. Dean arched his back and Castiel’s arms wrapped around him.

“Tell me this is ok.”

Castiel stopped and pulled back, but only just. 

Dean’s head remained tilted to the side, his eyes downcast. He did not look at his angel, for he did not know if Cas was truly his. In his heart, he would swear he knew the answer; but doubted he could look at Cas again if by any chance he was wrong.

“Dean,” Castiel began.

“No,” Dean swallowed and summoned the courage to look upon the angel, “Don’t give me some bullshit answer, Cas. I’m asking you...”

Dean paused, and Castiel understood.

In every facet of light, Dean Winchester was a pillar of strength. Yet, it was in the greys and shadows, and private moments such as this, that his true diffidence lied. He was asking Castiel to be a part of those moments, to be able trust him with the last part of himself that he never shared. Castiel studied Dean’s face; it begged validation. ‘Will you walk beside me?’ It whispered. Castiel realized how much Dean truly wanted this, perhaps even needed it. It confirmed that Castiel had been utterly wrong and emotionally remiss in his denial. The attraction was not one-sided and never had been. It had never been forbidden in any way. From the moment the angel’s hand had reached out and gripped him tight, both of them had been destined to be lost forever. 

The way Dean’s eyes shone with quandary in the low, fluorescent light of the room broke Castiel down. It took him apart to see doubt etched in the stone lines of his face. This was not the first time that Dean had held himself back from something that he desperately wanted. However, Cas felt encouraged by the fact that this was the farthest Dean had allowed himself to go, and was still willing to take one step further. Wherever he stood, Castiel wanted to meet him there. He wanted to remind Dean that he had already seen his soul, the very essence of who he was. That he had put it back together so carefully, that not one atom of it was out of place. He loved that soul dearly, flaws and all, and would never want it to lose the light that its owner had such trouble seeing. 

Pity that only one of them would retain the memory of that time. For the storm of emotions, felt in the moment Dean learned the truth about his Divine rescue, overshadowed any feelings that may have given him a clue as to the weight of those minutes in the ascent from Hell. Now a lifetime had passed, and Dean was asking to remember. He was asking for Cas to lift him up once again, to be safe with him once again.

“Dean,” Castiel repeated, “I have been by your side through everything, Heaven, Hell, the Apocalypse, all because I chose to be there. I always chose to be there. And, so often I wondered if I was doing the right thing. But I know now that it was right. I know because I realized that, regardless of the extent of my life, I now have great difficulty remembering a time that I did not love you.”

And there it was.

The words struck a chord, like the opening of a classic rock ballad. It vibrated around the small room. It was what Dean had wanted to hear for quite some time, what he had finally dared to hope for. He looked at Cas and smiled, relief playing on his features. 

“Ok,” Dean’s eyes closed, the lines of eyelashes shining with tears unshed. His voice was barely above a whisper, but that was perfectly adequate given the close proximity, “Ok, Cas.” He took the angel into his arms then, his strong limbs winding around his waist. He rested himself against the angel and sighed. It was the kind of sigh that promised and relented. The kind that made the room feel just a degree or two warmer. Their foreheads touched and everything seemed as calm and quiet as a snow-covered forest. When Dean spoke again, his words came much more assured, “Let’s go to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more spicy chapter to go!


	4. Is the Love You Discover

While still very much appreciated by the immortal, the pink underwear were not long for the situation. Once the two were well and comfortable in Dean’s room, with the door dutifully closed and locked, the beloved garment was but a hindrance. For now they were truly alone. The outside world with its judgements and contradictions drew further and further away. 

This was a place that existed only for them. 

Cas walked toward Dean, who waited reservedly beside the bed. Nothing but a pair of rouge-colored boxer-briefs now stood between him and the angel’s curious hands. Those hands began at the elastic band of the incorrigible garment. They then hooked their thumbs around it, and ran down over his thighs, creating a streak of smooth, pink skin as they traveled. Cas traveled with them, ending up on his knees in front of Dean. His wicked hands grabbed and caressed the man’s thighs as he leaned in to kiss Dean’s hip. The crest of his shoulder brushed against Dean’s cock, which was already thickening in anticipation. Castiel heard a moan from above and chanced a look. 

A spark of anxiety could still be seen in the green hues of the man’s eyes, but there was no hesitation in his actions. He stooped and urged Castiel upwards. Cas readily complied and soon found himself in the midst of being heedfully undressed. His trench and suit coats had been discarded promptly upon entering the room. Now, the top of his shirt was being unbuttoned; his collarbone became exposed, followed by his chest. Dean untucked the bottom of it and gently pushed the whole of the fabric back over Cas’ shoulders.

Dean’s hands paused just as he was about to unfasten the button of Cas’ pants. The angel remained still and Dean looked at him as if with new eyes. He huffed out a laugh, “Of all the times I’ve seen you, why is this different?” 

The angel did not respond, but that was okay; it was rhetorical anyhow.

They were so close now that they shared breath. Dean leaned in ever so slightly, that Castiel’s nose should brush his cheek. The angel leaned in, pressing his forehead to the side of Dean’s head in response. Cas was breathing hard, but trying intently to control it.

“Is this what you want, Cas?” Dean whispered as he deftly maneuvered past button and zipper. Castiel stifled a moan and Dean’s mouth crept closer to his ear, “Tell me,” he kissed Cas’ neck, allowing his lips to rub over the shadowed skin.

“Yes,” Castiel managed, “Yes, Dean, I want this. I can’t...” Dean’s kisses became more fervent as the words were spoken. The man began to gently suck a small trail down his neck, all the while his hands threatening bruises to his hips, “Ahhhh...I can’t think of anything I have wanted more in all my millennia.”

Cas’ eyes closed, lost in the pleasure of the moment. However, pleasure would soon turn to lament. For Dean had presently ceased his action and was now looking at the angel eye to eye. 

A smile began at the corner of Dean’s mouth and spread sideways; it seemed to oblige his head to tilt in a most boyish fashion,“You know I love it when you speak immortal,” he quipped.

At that, Castiel laughed wholeheartedly; Dean was one of the only beings able to bring an event such as that about. The man was so genuine in his humor, yet rare it was that he let it shine. Cas regarded Dean with adoration; and, might it be said, noted how wonderful it felt to not hide it any longer. 

The pair soon wound up atop the bed, tangled in each other’s limbs. Lying face to face, they laughed and nuzzled at each other. Yet, soon the laughter would die down in favor of need. Dean needed Castiel. And, though it seemed unlikely given all the lore in Christendom, Castiel needed Dean just as much. 

A touch began the fever, and a look did the rest. Starting at his lips, Castiel ran his fingers down the length of Dean’s torso, roving over muscle and flesh. Dean’s breath hitched as his fingers neared his cock. Cas hesitated for the slightest second before moving closer. His hand slotted itself between their bodies and finally found its objective. 

“Ungh,” Dean moaned at the relief. This is what he had wanted, what he had thought about for so long. Now, it was finally happening and his body needed it so badly.

Cas rubbed him, holding Dean’s body against him as he made exquisite noises into the crook of his neck. The man’s arm came around to encircle him, clutching at the back of his shoulder in a suspected effort to become one. Castiel was happy to comply. 

They stayed like that for a time, Dean bucking his hips into Cas’ fist while he licked and sucked at the angel’s neck and collarbone. Castiel had never felt quite so filled with need for the body of Dean Winchester below his. At long last, the pressure became too much. He rolled the man onto his back; their bodies dancing willingly. Dean looked up at Castiel like he had hung the moon. 

In reality, he hadn’t been there that day, but it had been described as magnificent. Though Castiel had served his Father and Heaven since the Creation, he had never felt the true power of magnificence, never truly understood the scope. He understood it now. He felt the brilliance of the willing human structure below him; made to fit with him, in every sense of the word. He felt the power of human attraction and the force of connection. Castiel reveled in the way his hips rested perfectly between Dean’s thighs as the man’s legs straddled him. 

Cas bent forward, his arms resting on the pillow next to Dean’s head. He touched his forehead to Dean’s and proceeded to kiss him thoroughly. The man’s heels dug into the mattress at his sides as Cas began to slowly rut against him. Dean’s hands were once again clutching at Cas’ shoulder blades, kneading at the flesh below where his wings existed. 

Castiel’s back arched, “Ohhh... yes, Dean. Yes, Dean, please...” he sighed.

Dean scrapped his fingertips down Castiel’s back, as if trying to free his wings from invisible bonds. When they traveled back north, the nails left a trail of heat. He felt Cas lift up from him. The angel brought his legs over Dean’s and now straddled his hips. He laid down upon him once more, lining up their cocks as he hovered mere inches from Dean’s face.

Dean’s hands found their way to his shoulder blades once again. They were positioned now, evenly and firmly, as if poised to play a glorious instrument. He felt Cas tense a bit, then relax and arch his back wantonly. He held himself up with both arms, looking down at Dean and presenting himself for him. 

“Dean,” Cas panted, “Please.” He was so hard. Every fiber in his being was humming with desire.

Dean couldn’t help but let out a strangled moan. He ran one hand down over Castiel’s ribs, propping himself up with his opposite arm. He pushed the angel backward, then pulled him in so that he was fully sitting in his lap. His hand snaked around Cas’ ass and touched him delicately, almost teasingly. Dean kept one hand at his shoulder blade, massaging him while the other curiously explored Castiel’s body. His fingers played around the entrance, finally pushing in and eliciting a grateful moan.

Castiel felt Dean’s fingers sink into him. He pushed back, coaxing them further and further inside. He wanted Dean’s hands on him, inside him. Castiel wanted to feel Dean all around him, just as he had felt him the day they met. He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, remembering how Dean’s soul had felt, rising with him from the depths, all those years ago.

Dean gazed up at the passion-drenched face rolling from side to side. The sight of him was amazing. Nothing had ever looked so magnificent. In awe, he dared not blink for fear of losing it. Yet, so desperately he wanted to feel the angel’s warm skin against his own, he pulled Cas back down to him. He held him and caressed where his rightful wings would be. Dean imagined black feathers sliding down over their bodies, imagined the light around them being obscured by large, dark plumes.

Dean gasped, enveloped by the thought. He closed his eyes and felt his lover’s weight atop him, felt his friction as he moved. From the energy that came flooding toward him to the careful movements of the angel above, everything was as it should be. In that moment, he felt a fierce ardour that had rarely graced him before. It burgeoned inside of him until he could no longer manage its insistence.

“Cas,” he sighed between pants, “I need you, I need you so much, Cas,”

The angel paused briefly and drew back, regarding Dean. The man was so beautiful. His eyes were as sincere as they were stormy with passion. He never knew green to be so tempestuous.

“I love you too, Dean.”

The look on Dean’s face changed then. The whole of him seemed to relax, down to his slightly furrowed brow. His breath slowed and his hands softly stroked up and down Castiel’s sides. Cas responded by touching Dean’s face and hair. He leaned in and tenderly kissed a line down the man’s chest and stomach, positioning himself so that he no longer straddled him. Cas put his hand to the inside of Dean’s thighs and pushed them apart slightly. He kissed there too.

Dean tensed, his breath hitching. 

Cas immediately returned to him, but was surprised when Dean’s legs came up to frame his hips.

“I want you, Cas... like this,” he swallowed, “Just like this.”

His legs fell open then, inviting Castiel’s body further between them.

Castiel wanted to respond with words of lust and adoration, but thought better of it. He knew Dean was not one for sentimental moments. As it was, he had rarely seen him reveal a vulnerability like he was doing right now. Yet, he also wanted Dean to know that he was his, in any way that Dean would have him. He wanted Dean to know that it had always been that way and would remain so for as long as the whole of existence persisted. Profound sentiments notwithstanding, Cas decided to remain silent and instead chose to cradle Dean’s face, running his fingertips down his cheek and neck. He kissed him softly before allowing his hand to wander back between them. 

Castiel grasped himself this time, coaxing his cock into readiness, which was not a difficult task. He was already anxiously hard from the intensity of their foreplay. He moved forward slightly and slowly rubbed his tip around the outside of Dean’s entrance. The fervor of Dean’s breaths increased, his chest rising and falling in large undulations. 

Cas pushed. Dean accepted.

“Ungh, Cas,” Dean moaned again and leaned up to see what his angel was doing to him. The view of Cas disappearing inside him only succeeded in turning him on even more. He was obliged to lie back down, lest the event be over all too quickly. 

Cas was gentle, pushing only slightly into him and then withdrawing. Dean began to writhe below him as the complexity of burning pleasure began to overcome him. Castiel watched him intently; he felt the man’s body tense and relax around him. By the movement of Dean’s hips and the look in his eye, he knew that Dean, body and soul, was finally ready for this. Cas pushed further and further. He knelt back and grabbed Dean’s waist. It changed the positioning, and he watched as the man unfolded before him. Dean’s body was as pliant as a willow branch and happily succumbed to his will. Castiel thrust inside of him, then did so once more, stopping just shy of complete. Not yet, he told himself.

Then, Dean licked his lips. 

Dean ran his tongue over his bottom lip first, feeling the nerve endings perk up. He bit down and relished how the epicenters of his pleasure shifted and divided. 

“Turn over.” 

Castiel’s deep, raspy voice commanded from above. 

This time, it was Dean who complied. He turned and propped himself up slightly, his legs spread. He felt exposed, yet he could not stop his hips from shifting back, presenting his willingness to his partner.

It was Castiel’s turn to moan. The sight was incredible to him, and he quickly acknowledged that he could now truly profess to know the meaning of the word, erotic. He closed his eyes and reached out. When his fingers hit the smooth human flesh, the reaction was visceral. A low kind of noise rumbled in his throat, it was the type of sound born of heat and desire. Cas grabbed his cock, his other hand once again holding Dean by the hip. He moved to press himself into him. Dean opened easily and soon Cas was able to seat himself completely within him. He took a moment to allow Dean to adjust, but also to savor the tightness, the pleasure, and the connection. 

“Oh, Dean,” he sighed.

“Cas,” came the insistent, yet muffled plea, “Move...uuugh...please, you...you have to move.” Obediently, Cas began to thrust into him, “Yes, yes... ohhh shit... you’re inside me....oh shit, Cas,” he panted. He cried out again as Cas’ cock began to hit a particularly pleasurable spot. 

At the sound of Dean’s voice, Castiel felt something surge inside of him. He held onto Dean’s hips and fervently snapped his own into Dean’s ass. Series of hard thrusts were followed by a speckling of slower paced ones. After a while of taking him in earnest, he lay down atop Dean’s back and slowed to movements that were calculated, languid, and timed. He pressed Dean into the bed, kissing the back of his neck and shoulders, his ministrations meant to draw the pleasure out from his lover.

Dean curled in on the pillow, a smile growing on his face. Beyond the pleasure, he felt cared for; and he found that in this moment, it agreed with him. The world always needed taking care of, and it seemed that he had been the one chosen to do it. The people and the dire situations never seemed to lessen. So being like this, allowing someone else to keep watch, to take control, was new, but not unwanted. A long-standing worry was lifted from him; perpetual loneliness. The possibility now existed that he would be able to live a complete life. Castiel, the angel who had commanded Heaven’s elite, was by his side for the rest of his time and beyond. The one person, he realized, whom he didn’t mind allowing to fully take care of him. 

Cas’ movements soon sped up again and Dean could feel him shiver after every few. Cas was close. Dean pushed back into him, canting his hips and forcing Cas further inside. He moaned as Cas began breathlessly speaking in his ear. They were things any lover might say in the heat of the moment, but somehow they sounded different coming from Cas. 

Just a little bit more miraculous. 

Cas’ thrusts became harder and the language changed. Enochian came pouring from his lips. It swelled through the darkened room and filled the small space like a waterfall in July. Castiel covered Dean’s arms with his own and grasped his wrists. It all became fluid now, the slip of their bodies, the united breathing, the muscles working beneath their heated skin. They were both slick with sweat and it felt right. 

Cas gave a few more thrusts in earnest, the force of them pushing Dean down into the mattress. The friction from the sheets below had an unexpected effect and threw Dean over the edge into orgasm. The string of curses and whines were swallowed up by his pillow, yet found their way to the angel’s keen ears.

The sounds that flowed up from the exquisite being below him made something inside Castiel begin to cascade. The muscles inside of Dean were squeezing, imploring him. There was no resisting it and he soon tumbled off the edge as well.

*****

The ensuing interlude of the chance laundry room encounter was not the last of its kind. This fact alone is the reason that Sam Winchester now knocks before opening said laundry room door, or any other closed door, for that matter. Life, itself, did not change very much. The four members of Team Free Will would spend evenings researching cases, driving all night to find vengeful spirits, and, occasionally, having a popcorn and movie night in the bunker.

Danger was an every day occurrence, stupid mistakes would be made. Nevertheless, each issue would be resolved, each case buttoned up as per the norm. Only this time, it would be easier. There was one more Winchester out there, with enough courage to take on anything. This was what they did, it was who they were. They were family.

Family Don’t End With Blood, but Perhaps it Begins with Pink.


End file.
